On Edge
by Lady Aishiteru
Summary: A horrible accident leaves Trowa dead, and Catherine blames herself. Quatre is the first to notice her deteriorating condition, but can he or anyone help Catherine before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

On Edge  
By Lady Aishiteru  
Website: http://www.geocities.com/anniemaniac_99/index.html  
Email: Lady_aisheteru@hotmail.com  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, but whoever does is really lucky. Please do not sue me. I am a college student, therefore I am poor.  
  
~*~Chapter 1~*~  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Catherine rubbed her sore temples. She had woken up from a horrible nightmare, bathed in a pool of sweat. She hadn't been sleeping well for a long time. In fact, she couldn't remember the last good night's worth of slumber that she had. She remembered the accident so clearly, the memory adding to the dull throbbing that had insisted on taking place in her head. Unable to forget the terrible event, she replayed the events once again in her mind.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
She was performing her knife throwing act, and all was going well except for one thing. Someone had forgotten to mention that the knives had been sharpened right before the act, so she had barely suppressed a yelp of pain when she had gripped the knife slightly above the hilt. She saw Trowa's concerned stare from behind the unmasked half of his face, more for her than for his own safety. 'But the show must go on,' she had thought. So she raised her hand, appearing poised and confident, even though she was shaking inside. She sighed a little and let loose the knives she held in her bleeding hand.  
  
Trowa's eyes widened as he saw the knives coming, and he knew that he should try to break free of his restraints. But his split second instinct hadn't been enough to save the young clown. Catherine gasped when the knives made their mark...a few crucial millimeters away from their intended target.  
  
Of course, the man who sharpened the knives was fired on the spot. Nobody blamed Catherine except Catherine herself. At Trowa's funeral, all the people were crying her eyes out, but not Catherine. She felt an aching in her heart, as well as cold and hot all over. She felt an intense need to vomit.   
  
She couldn't believe that this was real, that this was really happening. But even the skilled undertaker hadn't unable to hide the telltale scars on the head and sides of Trowa's lifeless body. She had even pinched herself, hoping that it was all a horrible nightmare, but the next day it would prove all too real when the next morning she would get up and Trowa would be gone.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Everyone was too absorbed in their own sorrows to notice the anguish of Catherine Bloom. Everyone except a lone pair of sapphire eyes connected to a concerned face. Quatre was the most emotioannly sensitive of all the former Gundam pilots, and as such he knew that different people would be affected differently. Catherine was like a sister to Trowa, and Quatre had the feeling that she was the most deeply affected among the grievers. He had consierd himself the reclusive clown's best friend, but Catherine's relationship with Trowa ran deeper. After the last person had finished speaking, Catherine was led away with the rest of the procession, and Quatre lost her in the crowd. He frowned, hoping she would be okay.   
  
He too remembered the accident. He had seen it along with the rest of the crowd, and he had accompanied her and Trowa to the hospital in the ambulance. They had tried to remove the knife from Trowa's brain, but he had died on the operating table. He remembered Trowa's last words and smiled a bit; if he had known he was dying, maybe he would have chosen something else to say. Quatre had asked Trowa how he was holding up, and the glib pilot resonded, "It hurts like hell."  
Then again, maybe he knew he was dying. Hadn't Heero said that after a near trip to the Great Beyond?  
  
The phone rang, distracting him for his reverie. "Hello, Quatre Raberba-Winner speaking."  
  
The person on the other end babbled on for quite some time before Quatre managed to talk him into setting up a meeting for a later date. He sighed, admitting to himself that he was getting tired of long-winded customers. He took a sip of water and decided to call it a day.  
  
Again, the phone rang. "Hello, we are closed for the day. Please call during regular business hours. Thank you," Quatre said, annoyance clear in his voice, preparing to hang up.  
  
"Q-man! Don't hang up!"  
  
Only one person would dare to call the CEO of Raberba Winner Enterptises by that awful nickname. "Duo?"  
  
"It's important," he said.  
  
Quatre sighed. "Another hangover, Duo? You've got to stop these wild parties."  
  
Duo groaned, causing Quatre to be completely unprepared for what he was about to say next. "It's Catherine. She's in the hospital."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	2. Chapter 2

On Edge  
by Lady Aishiteru  
Email: Lady_aisheteru@hotmail.com  
Website: http://www.geocities.com/anniemaniac_99/index.html  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, but whoever does is really lucky.   
Please do not sue me. I am a college student, therefore I am poor.  
  
~*~Chapter 2~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Quatre slammed down the phone and left his office immediately, telling his shocked secretary to tell whoever called that he was busy. Her eyes had widened in surprise. Usually, Quatre was the last one to leave and he did so in a calm and orderly manner. But this time he was rushed, disorganized and looked very worried. 'I wonder what's eating him,' she thought.  
  
He didn't even wait for the limosine; it wouldn't arrive for another thirty minutes anyways. Instead, he hailed a cab. Almost immediately one pulled over. "Where to" the cabby asked.  
  
"I need to get to the hospital and fast!" he said, his voice strained with worry.   
  
"No problem."  
  
Within minutes they were at the hospital, but it seemed like an eternity to Quatre. He knew something was wrong with Catherine, and now he cursed himself for standing by and doing nothing.  
  
"Here we are."  
  
"Thanks," said Quatre, forking out some bills.  
  
"No, thank you!" said the cabby.  
  
Quatre nodded, too distracted to notice that he had given the cabby five hundreds instead of five one dollar bills. He didn't watch the cab leave the hospital parking lot but instead rushed to the front desk.  
  
"Can you tell me where Catherine Bloom is, miss?" he asked the receptionist.  
  
"No problem. She's in room 314, on the west wing."  
  
"Thanks," he said, about to speed up, but the receptionist held his hand fast.  
  
"I was thinking, if you're not doing anything tonight, maybe we could go out for a drink?"  
  
"No, thanks," he said, then broke free easily.  
  
"Here's my number," she said, shoving a piece of paper in his hand. "Call me!" she shouted as he tore off.  
  
In happier circumstances, Quatre would have shaken his head and smiled. Ever since he had turned eighteen, women were hitting on him constantly. If he had bothered to spend much time in front of his mirror, he would know why. Some time after the war, he had made the transition between a boy and a man, a well built man with a triangular build, sandy blond hair and eyes that any woman could easily get lost in. But he didn't look in the mirror, at least not much. That was more of a Duo thing.  
  
"Q-man! Glad you could make it!" shouted Duo, grabbing his friend in a bear hug. Hilde was sitting next to the hospital bed, smiling at her husband's antics. Duo had also grown; he stood a tall 6'2" and was lean but muscular. He still wore his hair in a braid, but it was longer now. The same light shone in his eyes, but was dimmed somewhat by the recent events in the lives of his friends.  
  
"Is she..okay?" asked Quatre, his eyes reflecting concern.  
  
"The doctor said she'll be okay in awhile. She's resting now"  
  
"Did she..."  
  
"No. All the blood tests were negative. Sally suspects it was a combination of dehydration, malnutrition and exhaustion."  
  
Quatre sighed in relief. She was depressed, not suicidal.   
  
"Hey guys," said Relena, who had just walked in the room with Heero at her side. She had also grown up nicely, her hair flowing to her waist and her figure that of a woman, not a teenager. Heero stood a commanding six feet tall, and was all muscle. He didn't say much or do much to show his feelings for Relena in public, but everyone could tell by looking into his eyes that they were in love. In fact, the two had wed last month and had returned early from their honeymoon when they had heard about Catherine.   
  
"How's the patient?" asked Relena.  
  
"The doctor says she'll be okay in a little while," said Duo, who graciously left out the details on how she had gotten in there in the first place.   
  
"That's good," she said, taking a seat in the corner, where Heero stood next to her.  
  
Sally walked in next, clad in a white lab coat, a clipboard in hand. "Hey guys. I just thought I'd pop in and see how my patient is doing."  
  
"Hi, Sally," said Duo. "How's it going?"  
  
"Good, good," said Sally as she checked Catherine's vital signs. "Well, she seems pretty normal. Just make sure she drinks plenty of water when she wakes up."  
  
"Aye, aye," said Duo, raising his hand to his forehead in a mock salute. At this, Sally rolled her eyes and walked away to continue her rounds.  
  
Wufei walked in the room, wearing his usual scowl. "Have you seen my wife?" he asked.  
  
"You just missed her, Wu-man," said Duo.  
  
At this, Wufei growled. "I told you not to call me that!"  
  
"Relax, don't have a coronary. Sit down and talk with us."  
  
Wufei grumbled something unintelligible, but he did as Duo said.  
  
They sat around Catherine and talked for awhile, but Quatre's mind wasn't on the conversation. Finally, Sally walked in again.  
  
"Hey guys. Visiting hours are over," she said.   
  
Duo groaned but got up, as did Relena, and one by one, they left the room, everyone except Quatre.  
  
"Hey, you have to leave too," said Sally.  
  
"No. I'm not leaving," he said, being uncharacteristically stubborn.  
  
Something akin to understanding shone in Sally's eyes. "OK, you can stay. But don't let anyone know you're here or I'll lose my promotion."  
  
Quatre nodded and smiled.  
  
Wufei popped in and looked at Sally. "Onna, are you ready to go?"  
  
"What was that? I think I heard someone's gums flapping..."  
  
Wufei sighed. "SALLY, can we go now?"  
  
"Yes, dear," she said, smiling. "I'll train him yet," she whispered to Quatre. He followed the two with his eyes and smiled. 'Not likely,' he thought.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Catherine awoke with a start, but her growing panic didn't get any better. She had woken up from a nightmare and had no idea where she was.  
  
She surveyed her surroundings and breathed in the antiseptic smell. 'It smells like a hospital or something,' she thought. The last thing she remembered was that she was getting ready for her act. She noticed that her hand was shaking; she had barely been able to apply her makeup. The trailer swam before her eyes, making her very dizzy. Mercifully, the world had chosen to go black.  
  
The room was mostly dark, as it was still night time. Catherine could make out that she was in a bed with white sheets. She felt someone holding her hand and traced the arm to the source. She was shocked to note that it was the hand of Quatre, Trowa's best friend.  
  
'What's he doing here?' Catherine wondered, gazing at his sleeping form. He was leaned back a little on his chair, and a stray bang was obscuring his eyes a bit. Unable to resist the charms of a sleeping man, she brushed away the renegade lock, her fingers lingering on his soft skin. She could smell his cologne slightly over the hospital scent, and the proximity made it almost intoxicating. She stared at him a little longer, then laid back down and fell into a happy sleep, Quatre still holding her hand.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Quatre awoke as the rays of the sun filtered through the venetian blinds, making a striped pattern on his face. For a fleeting moment, he wondered where he was. Then he looked at the sleeping beauty in the hospital bed.  
  
She looked a little too thin, causing Quatre to believe that Sally's diagnosis was correct, that Catherine hadn't been eating well lately. He wondered how long that had been going on, but suspected that it had been since Trowa's death.   
  
He continued to watch over Catherine as the sun lit up her features. He resolved to put his life on hold, at least until he knew she was okay. He hadn't been able to save Trowa, but he'd be damned if he was to allow another person die that was close to him. He had seen far too much death in his twenty-one years, and he prayed to God that he wouldn't see any more.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	3. Chapter 3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
On Edge  
by Lady Aishiteru  
Email: Lady_aisheteru@hotmail.com  
Website: http://www.100megspop2.com/ladya/ (It's under constant construction, though.)  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, but whoever does is really lucky. Please do not sue me. I am a college student, therefore I am poor.  
  
~*~Chapter 3~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
"Mr. Winner?"  
  
"Huh?" said Quatre.   
  
The nurse smiled. He looked handsome, even handsomer than the magazine pictures she had seen. His clothing was a bit rumpled and he had the beginnings of a blond beard forming along his no nonsense jawline. And, she noted, the articles were true. He does have kind eyes.  
  
"I wanted to see if you wanted to take a rest or something. Say, my shift is just about over. Would you like to grab a cup of coffee?"  
  
Quatre smiled and shook his head. "No, thanks, I'm fine here."  
  
The nurse nodded politely and began to walk away, but Quatre stopped her. "That coffee does sound good, though. Can you have someone bring me a cup?"  
  
"Sure, it'll be along shortly."  
  
"Thanks!" Quatre said, smiling a charming smile.  
  
He ran his hands through his hair and stretched to get the kink out of his neck. 'Man, I must look awful,' he thought. 'Boy, if Rashid could see me now.' He pictured his servant fussing over his wrinkly clothes, yelling after the other Maguanacs to grab some shaving foam, leather and an old fashioned razor, not to mention his hair....  
  
Truth be told, he didn't care that much for his looks. He only submitted to the pampering because it was what was expected of him, plus it made Rashid feel happy. After the war, he took on all forty Maguanacs as his servants, with Rashid in charge. It was strange at first, watching men who were used to piloting MS's polishing the silver and doing the wash, but it made them happy to be near Quatre, he mused as he realized that he was still holding Catherine's hand.   
  
When had he taken her hand in his own, wondered Quatre. He opened his hand a bit to study the one he was holding. Quatre had always held a fascination with hands. He felt that hands told a lot about a person. His own were slender, yet held a kind of masculine beauty, even though he felt that they had been stained by too much blood during his time as a soldier. He wondered if she would feel that her hands were also stained, but to him, they conveyed a kind of delicate beauty.   
  
"Mmmm...Quatre?" asked Catherine.  
  
"Hey," said Quatre, stroking her hand in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "Good morning."  
  
She frowned. "Yeah, right."  
  
"Come on, now. Frowning doesn't suit you," said Quatre.   
  
She gave a weak imitation of a smile. "Better?"  
  
"It's a start."  
  
She took her hand and crossed her arms. "I suppose you're going to lecture me on taking better care of myself."  
  
He shook his head. "No, I'm not here to judge you, Catherine."  
  
"Oh?" she said, a bit of her old feistiness emerging. "Aren't you mad at me? Even a little?"  
  
"Why would I be mad at you?" he asked.  
  
"Because I killed your best friend," she said, turning her face away so he wouldn't see her cry.  
  
Gently, Quatre drew her face towards Quatre and held it there, so they were making eye contact. "Catherine, nobody blames you for what happened. It was an accident."  
  
She nodded, but she couldn't stop the steady trail of tears from flowing. She saw the sincerity in his eyes, and her upper lip began to quiver.  
  
"It's okay to cry. Let it out," he said.  
  
She didn't need any further encouragement. Unable to hold in her emotions any longer, she released her anguish in pain wracked sobs, as Quatre let her head rest on his shoulder. He sat there like that for over an hour, patting her back, whispering words of comfort he had learned from his sisters.  
  
Catherine lifted her head and gave a final sniffle. "Oh my God...your shirt! I ruined it! I'm so sorry," she said, pointing to the big wet spot on his shoulder.  
  
Quatre put a finger to her lips. "You don't need to apologize. Let yourself grieve, Catherine. It's the first step towards feeling better. Now do you want some breakfast?"  
  
She nodded.   
  
"I'll have Rashid bring us some breakfast," he said, getting out his cell phone. "What would you like?"  
  
"Pancakes would be fine."  
  
He nodded. "Rashid?"  
  
"Yes, Master Quatre?" he asked, his stoic face filling the tiny video screen.  
  
"Would you please bring two stacks of pancakes, with maple syrup, home fries and scrambled eggs, up to the hospital? I'll be eating breakfast here today."  
  
Rashid nodded. "Do you want anything else? I could have Sahim bring you a change of clothes."  
  
He shook his head and smiled. "Rashid, you spoil me too much. Just breakfast will do nicely."  
  
"Do you want my special potatoes?" piped in Mohammed, one of the other Maguanacs.  
  
"No...I don't think Catherine's up to food that spicy right now," Quatre said.  
  
"Oh, okay. We'll have breakfast up soon."  
  
"Thank you, Mohammed." That being said, Quatre closed the connection.  
  
"Wow, you're pampered, huh?" asked Catherine.  
  
Quatre laughed. "Well, it makes them happy. They were just hanging around after the war, so I hired them as my domestic staff."   
  
"Oh. Um...just how spicy are those potatoes anyways?" she asked.  
  
Quatre smiled. "Mohammed, my cook, has this special recipe that he says was handed down from many generations ago. Once we had Duo and Hilde over for dinner, and he served them the "special" potatoes. Hilde was fine; she said that she was used to spicy food, but Duo..."  
  
"My ears are buzzing," said Duo, as he walked into the room with Hilde. "You talking about us, Q-man?"  
  
Quatre winced a bit at the hideous nickname. "Oh, I was just telling Catherine about the spiced potatoes Mohammed fed you that one night."  
  
"Oh, man! Don't get me started on those! I had to drink three pitchers of water to stop the burning!"  
  
"Yeah," said Hilde, giggling. "The mighty Shingami can't hold his spuds!"  
  
"C'mon, babe! Those potatoes were red-hot!"  
  
Hilarious laugher erupted, and Quatre's laughter was so infectious that Catherine couldn't help but to join in. Soon, Rashid came with breakfast, which Quatre and Catherine happily ate. The friends talked for hours, and Quatre noted that Catherine was smiling, for real this time.   
  
"Well, it's been real. We've got to go now," said Duo, looking at his pager.  
  
"Yeah, that same jerk has to haggle about his paint job AGAIN," groaned Hilde.   
  
"Bye. Thanks so much for coming," said Catherine.  
  
"Anything for a friend," said Duo.  
  
"Riiiight. You came for the cappuccino bar and you know it, mister."  
  
"Baaaaabe!"  
  
Quatre laughed at the couple's antics as they left the room.  
  
"Quatre, aren't you leaving too?"  
  
He shook his head. "Nah, I'm fine," he said, grinning.  
  
An awkward moment passed between them, with Catherine staring down at her sheets that she had bunched up in her hands. A question, still half formed in her mind, escaped from her lips. "Why, Quatre?"  
  
His eyebrows arched slightly. "Why what?"  
  
"Why are you being so kind?"  
  
He looked down, and Catherine felt that familiar guilt crawling up her neck. "Why? Because I know what it's like to be at the end of your rope, Catherine. I know what it's like to feel like you have blood on your hands. And because I made someone a promise, that I would look after his sister if anything happens," he said, his mouth forming a tight line.  
  
After another awkward pause, Quatre started to leave. If she wanted to live in a state of self loathing, who was he to question it? He knew when he wasn't wanted, and Catherine obviously didn't want to be helped.  
  
"Quatre?"  
  
He turned around, his eyes beginning to water.   
  
"Thanks," she said.   
  
"You're welcome, Catherine" he said, somewhat gruffly, then he pivoted on his heel and began to walk away again.  
  
"Can you do one more thing for me?"  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Call me Cathy." 


	4. Chapter 4

On Edge - Chapter 4 

**_ On Edge  
by [Lady Aishiteru][1]  
Chapter 4  
_**

  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, but whoever does is really lucky. Please do not sue me. I am a college student, therefore I am poor.  
  
  


*****

  
  
_ It was cold. The kind of cold that would chill the bones. The cold went past Quatre's spacesuit and sank into his very being.   
  
The frigid temperature also matched how Quatre was feeling; near completely devoid of any emotion. He felt no compassion, no sympathy, not for the citizens of that particular colony. Soon, he would destroy it, and when he did, he knew that he would feel no remorse. He was the avenging angel, the siren of death. Outer space had spun out of control when it had swallowed up his father, and when something gets out of control, it gets punished.  
  
Quatre entered the colony and briefly surveyed it from the cockpit of his gundam. He took in the Ferris wheel and the people down below, which looked to him like ants who were about to be stepped on. 'These people don't need a carnival,' he mused. 'What they need is a war!'  
  
From that point on, he didn't hesitate. He raised his beam cannon, aimed, and fired, penetrating the colony as if he was cutting butter with a knife.   
  
He saw a shimmering mist gather in front of his line of vision. 'These sparkles,' he thought. 'They're my tears.' But the tears were the result of a mere reflex; he didn't feel the least bit sad. His emotions had frozen over in the deep recesses of outer space. Now he felt nothing, nothing as the huge chunks of fire and molten metal sailed past his gundam. Nothing at all. _  


*****

  
  
Quatre awoke with a start, bathed in a pool of sweat. He didn't like to remember those times, but these days, especially after Trowa's death, the war haunted his dreams, and often, his waking thoughts.   
  
Maybe it was due to what he had almost done to his best friend all those years ago, he mused, pulling on a shirt. It was shortly after his father was murdered by the ignorant colonists, who believed that OZ would liberate their colony from the perceived tyranny of the Winner family.   
  
_"Because I know what it's like to be at the end of your rope, Catherine. I know what it's like to feel like you have blood on your hands."_  
  
He remembered telling Catherine that at the hospital, and for him, it was true. To that day, nobody really knew if Quatre's nervous breakdown was due to his father's death, the accumulation of guilt for betraying his father's ideals, the influence of the Zero system, or the buildup of the horrors of the war on his tender psyche that had not yet been hardened by life on the battlefield.   
  
He had been instrumental in winning the war, and it was him that had saved the Gundams from incineration in the wake of the Mariemeia crisis. Even so, he felt he could never truly atone for the destruction of X-19, or for his part in Trowa's near-death that day.  
  
He had gone to see Catherine every day at the hospital, to the point of becoming her shadow. He brought her breakfast each morning and stayed with her until visiting hours were over. When it was time for her to go home, he had even helped her pack.  
  
Quatre wondered if she was okay. He still saw her every morning, because he still brought her breakfast. She laughed and smiled when he was around, but sometimes, when she thought he wasn't listening, he would hear her crying. When she knew he heard her, she would say that there was something in her eye. But Quatre knew the truth; although she tried to hide it, her sadness was still written on her face. He suspected that she still carried around a lot of guilt from the accident. _'Trowa's not the only one in the family to wear a mask,'_ thought Quatre.   


*****

  
Ms. Anita Blake, his secretary, merely nodded when he came in that day; she knew better than to question her superior. He had never blown up at her before, but she knew about the recent events in his life; everyone did. It was the latest gossip around the water coolers all around the company. Everyone was saying that Quatre was in love with a woman, a former knife thrower at that.   
  
Anita didn't guess Quatre would go for the aggressive type of woman; she had always figured he would go for the quiet, demure type. But if this Catherine woman was everything that people said she was, then she was just what Quatre needed, she reflected.   
  
She wasn't one to blindly accept every rumor as it buzzed around, but she did note that Quatre seemed distracted. She observed him out of the corner of her eye as she carried on her normal routine in the corner of the office they shared, sighing occasionally for no apparent reason, as if there was something, or someone, on his mind. She also noticed him gazing at a new photograph on his desk of a beautiful brunette when he thought she wasn't looking. _'Maybe there is some truth to these rumors after all,'_ she mused. She mentally crossed her handsome boss off of her 'available men' list.  


*****

  
  
Catherine glared at the digits on her alarm clock and willed them to come into focus. She groggily noted that it was well past any respectable hour to be up, but ever since she had quit the circus, she didn't really have anything in particular to do.   
  
She had went back to sleep when Quatre had left. She always felt a sudden sense of emptiness when he was gone, and she couldn't quite explain it. It was as if something inside of her uncurled from being tightly clenched, and she felt a little lighter. But the same old melancholy had crept back up on her again.   
  
She missed him when he wasn't there. Something about his smile, his warm, easy manner comforted her, but sometimes she would break down and cry, for no apparent reason. She hoped that he didn't know how dejected she still was; the thought of her worrying Quatre made her sadness even deeper.   
  
_'I want to get better, but it's so hard,'_ thought Catherine, as she tidied up the bed that occupied a large portion of her cracker box apartment. Her meager savings paid for food and a roof over her head. It was nothing extravagant, but it was enough, and more importantly, it was hers, a declaration of her independence.   
  
Deep down, Catherine knew that it was a farce; she was not nearly as independent as she wanted to be. She was starting to need him, Quatre, and that scared her more than anything. His kind face haunted her dreams, and sometimes she would wake up and blush at the memory of them. He was never far from her waking thoughts.   
  
She wondered if she was some kind of charity case for him, especially after what he had said to her back at the hospital;   
  
_"...because I made someone a promise, that I would look after his sister if anything happens."_   
  
Was that all she was to him? An obligation to be fulfilled in honor of her departed brother? She huffed at that, but the doubt crept deeper into her mind, into the dark recesses where unpleasant sensations were buried and would rise again to taunt her later.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door. She didn't have to think about who was at the door; she knew it was him. "Come in," she said.  
  
"Hi, Cathy," said Quatre.  
  
"What's behind your back?" asked Catherine, trying to peek.  
  
Quatre laughed at the bundle of curiosity that was Catherine. _'I guess Heero is a romantic at heart. Who would have thought,'_ he mused, thinking back upon the advice session that had taken place that afternoon during his lunch break.   
  
_* Flashback *  
Quatre rang the doorbell of the Peacecraft mansion. Moments later, Pargan answered the door. "Come in, they're in the drawing room."  
  
"Thanks," he said, and he found Heero playing a lively Chopin piece on the piano to a captive audience of one, Relena.  
  
He stopped in mid-note and looked up. "Quatre," he said, more of a statement than a question.  
  
"What brings you here, Quatre?" asked Relena.  
  
At this, Quatre dropped the charade and ran his fingers through his hair. "I need your advice on something."  
  
Heero's eyes widened when he had heard what Quatre had to say, and Relena smiled. "I guess even the Perfect Soldier can be surprised every now and again."  
  
"FORMER soldier," he corrected his wife lovingly. He turned to Quatre and said, "Here's what you need to do...."  
  
* End of Flashback * _   
  
Quatre's smile got even bigger as he thrust his arm forward and saw Catherine's eyes widen.  
  
"Flowers!" she exclaimed.  
  
"I'll go get something to put them in," she bubbled enthusiastically. When she returned with the flowers in a vase, he was sitting on her couch, and she marveled at how his presence seemed to fill the room, making her tiny apartment seem even smaller.  
  
"I have it on good authority that most women like roses, and I'm told that the color is symbolic."  
  
"Symbolic?" asked Catherine, looking at the red roses. She had never been much of a poetic soul. "For what?"  
  
He didn't say anything, and just when Catherine thought he had gone mute, he got up and encircled her waist with his arms. Her eyes widened when he finally spoke:  
  
"Red is the color of passion, of love."  
  
"L-love? But I thought you were being so nice to me because you promised Tro-"  
  
She was unable to finish her sentence as his lips claimed her own. It was gentle at first, and she snaked her arms around his neck. He invited her to deepen the kiss, and the level of passion and desire he poured into it told her more than words would ever say. All too soon, he stepped back, but he still held her in his arms.  
  
"I love you, Cathy. I've wanted to do that...ever since I saw you at the funeral."  
  
She blushed at the sweetness of his admission.   
  
"Do you believe in fate, Cathy?" he asked, his breathing still somewhat labored.  
  
"Fate? Yes, I do, believe in fate. Why?"  
  
"I think all things happen for a reason, Cathy. Trowa is gone, and I know you still feel guilty about it."  
  
At that, she vehemently shook her head, but Quatre gently caught her jaw in the palm of his hand. "I do too," he admitted. "During the war, I snapped, and he tried to stop me from doing something awful. Unfortunately, it almost cost him his life."  
  
"But you didn't kill him!"  
  
"Neither did you," said Quatre. "It was an accident."  
  
She nodded, and for the first time, she truly believed it. "I miss him so much," she admitted.   
  
"I know," he said. "But at least in the midst of all this, I found you. I think Trowa would have wanted it this way."  
  
She nodded. "He wouldn't want either of the people he loved most to be alone."  
  
For a moment, they were silent, then Quatre broke the stillness of it. "Cathy?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"What would you do if I kissed you again?"  
  
She smiled. "Why don't we find out?" she asked coyly.  
  
They did, the two souls echoing each others needs, filling the empty places inside, and deep down, both of them knew that this was forever, that they would never be alone again.  
  


*****

  
_Lady A: I'm not sure at this point if I want to write an epilogue or not...I guess we'll all find out about that together. I hope you enjoyed reading this fic._   


   [1]: mailto:Lady_aisheteru@hotmail.com



	5. Epilogue

On Edge - Epilogue

**_ On Edge  
by Lady Aishiteru Epilogue_**

Standard disclaimers apply. ^_^

~*~*~*~

Catherine awoke to rays of sunlight caressing her face, inviting her back into consciousness. Eyes still closed, she sighed contentedly. She had the most wonderful dream, and she didn't want to ever wake from it.

She felt a stirring coming from the other side bed, like someone tossing in their sleep. It was then that she noticed the sound of a heartbeat and the feel of strong arms holding her close. She craned her neck upwards, and was greeted by the face of Quatre.

_'So it wasn't a dream,'_ thought Catherine. He really was here with her. She studied his face - an even amount of blond stubble was forming on his jawline, his hair was slightly tousled over his forehead, and his generous lashes rested on his cheeks. _'He really does look sweet when he's sleeping,'_ she thought.

Aware of being watched, Quatre's eyelids fluttered open. "Morning," he drawled sleepily.

Catherine turned around so her elbows were propped up on his chest. "Morning. Sleep well?"

"Mm-hmm," Quatre said between kissing her hair, inhaling the fragrance. He sighed against her auburn locks. "Can't we just stay here all day?" 

"Why, Quatre, I'm turning you into a weak man, aren't I?" said Catherine, twirling a strand of his chest hair.

Quatre groaned; she wasn't making this easy. He was beginning to wonder if, maybe, falling asleep in the same bed wasn't such a good idea. "Hon, didn't we agree to save this for the wedding night?"

Catherine shook her head and smiled impishly. "Nope. I didn't agree to anything. That was _your_ idea, mister." She scooted upwards and looked into his eyes.

"That reminds me," said Quatre. "I have something to give you."

Catherine gasped. 

"Well, for us, actually." He reached into his pant pocket and pulled out a small black box. He opened it to reveal a demure, but elegant ring. He dangled the box in front of her shining eyes and grinned. "I reserved a small church nearby. It won't be much, but it will be official."

"A church? Does that mean we're getting married? Today?" she asked eagerly.

He chuckled. "I have the feeling it's best not to keep you waiting."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They were married that day, in a brief, but tasteful ceremony. Heero, who had been in on the plan all along, was the best man, and Relena was the bridesmaid. Besides the minister, they were the only two present to witness the blessed event, which was exactly what Quatre had in mind. He didn't want an elaborate ceremony, and he had the feeling Catherine didn't, either.

The irony wasn't lost on Catherine that the ceremony took place in the same church as Trowa's funeral. But, in a strange way, it all made sense. It was the place where her life and Quatre's had begun to intertwine. Where one life had ended, a new life was just beginning for her.

Even though Catherine had married her true love, she still had a serious obstacle to overcome. After seeing a psychiatrist, she found out what was causing her depression - a particularly nasty case of post-traumatic stress syndrome. The psychiatrist prescribed a pill to ease her anxiety, but it wasn't a complete cure. Nothing medical science could produce ever would be. 

Sometimes, Catherine would still wake up, reeling from images of the accident, breathing heavily and sweating bullets. Then Quatre would rub her back tenderly until she fell asleep again. In time, her condition improved, and she was able to stop taking the medicine. 

She was happy with her new life, but neither her or Quatre would ever forget that someone had to die in order to create it. Neither of them would lose their memories of Trowa, who lived on in both their hearts.

End


End file.
